Hold on Sammy, Just Hold On
by Adeliade
Summary: This is how I imagined it would go after season 8 ended... warning: character death


**I know that this has been done before but this is how I imagined things would go after the ending of Season 8...**

"Everything's going to be alright Sammy. Everything's going to be okay. We'll get you patched up and you'll be good as new again." Dean repeated over and over again to Sam who was lying in the back seat of the Impala, struggling to breathe and grunting with pain.

"It'll be okay. It'll be okay." Dean didn't know why he kept chanting those words over and over again because he knew that everything was not going to be okay. Nothing was okay.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sam was supposed to do the trails and shut the gate to hell. They were supposed to be done with angels and demons alike. Things were supposed to go back to how they were, just Sam and Dean, fighting ghosts and maybe the occasional vampire. But not this. Never this.

Dean looked into the rearview mirror to check on Sam. Dammit he looked bad. Not just from the last trial but from everything. Dammit Sammy.

"Hey come on little brother, you need to stay with me!" Dean shouted to Sam who had fallen silent. Dammit Sammy, dammit! "Sam? Sammy!" The Impala swerved dangerously over the yellow dotted line, a truck horn blared just in time for Dean to steer the car back into his own lane and return his worried gaze to Sam, who was now motionless as well as silent.

"Dammit Sammy I need you to stay with me!" Dean barked, blinking back tears at the sight of his seemingly lifeless brother. "Sam!" His tone was more commanding. Before he had been asking his brother to stay awake, to stay alive- now he was _telling_ him to. Because he would be damned if the kid died on him now. Not like this.

"Sam dammit you wake up now!" Dean shouted in his best "big brother" voice. There was a loud, shuddering breath from the back seat that told him that Sam was back. But the breathing just brought back the moans of pure agony that wracked his "little" brother's frame.

"Sam you- Sam!" The breathing quickened, then slowed again. "Sam you stay with me! You don't fall asleep on me again, you hear?" Dean blinked hard. "Sam! Answer me!" Yes, answer. Dean needed to hear his brother's voice. He needed to know that he was still there.

"D'n…" Sam choked out before taking in a horrible, shuddering breath that made Dean's heart ache. His brother was struggling to breathe. But talking was good. Talking meant that Sam was still here.

"Good Sam! Good! Now you stay with me, you hear? Don't you dare fall asleep again! We're almost to the hospital. We'll get you patched up, Sammy. You'll be alright again in no time!" Lies. Dean knew that Sam wasn't going to be alright. How could a hospital help him now? It took one look at his brother, one earful of the shuddering breathes and pained moans to know that Sam wasn't going to be alright. Dammit Sammy.

"D'n-" Dean turned his gaze to the mirror once more, a dangerous move considering their speed of over 100mph but god dammit he _needed_ to see his little brother. Sam sucked in another rattling breath and started coughing. Oh god the coughing. Even through the darkness Dean could hear the telltale wet hacking that told him Sam was coughing up blood.

"Sam hold on, just… just hold on. Look, we're here! We made it." Dean heard the terror in his own voice and it terrified him even more. He couldn't do this, not now. Not while Sam was in such bad shape. He couldn't let the kid know just how awful everything was.

The Impala pulled to a skidding stop outside the emergency room. Dean didn't care that it was an ambulance-only zone. For now the old black car was a Sam-bulance. He just needed to get his brother into the hospital.

"Okay Sam here we go! Here we go little brother!" Dean opened the back door of the Impala and tried to force down his panic. Sam looked even worse than he had thought. Dammit Sammy dammit!

"Here we go! Okay Sam I need you to walk for me. Can you do that for me?" Dean was practically shouting at Sam. Oh god the kid looked bad. Every pathetic attempt for a breath was followed by a strangled cry and strange convulsion.

Dean grabbed his brother under his armpits and started to drag the 6' 4" man from the car. Sam grunted in pain with each movement.

"Sam I'm sorry but I gotta get you inside! I- Sam? Hey! Sammy! Open your eyes dammit!" As Dean pulled his brother from the backseat, Sam's eyes started to flutter closed and his breathing once again grew steadily slower, though more pained than before.

Dean had managed to pull Sam completely from the backseat of the Impala now, but Sam was fading and fading fast. So Dean did the only thing that he could think to do. He slapped Sam hard across the cheek.

He nearly burst into tears when Sam opened his eyes once more and sucked in a labored, painful breath. It didn't matter if it hurt, breathing was good. Sam needed to breathe.

But Dean knew that Sam was far from out of the woods. God dammit. He was too light. Dean pulled the much larger man way too easily through the automatic doors of the hospital. Why was no one coming to help him?

"I need some help here!" Dean shouted, still dragging Sam. "Dammit I need some help he can't breathe!"

Suddenly Dean was no longer holding Sam. There were at least a dozen people surrounding his little brother who lay gasping on the floor. Dammit Sammy. Under the white lights of the hospital Dean could for the first time see how bad Sam really looked. He looked so damn bad.

"Sam? Hey Sammy I- Get off of me!" Dean whirred and instinctively punched at the person who had just tried to hold him back, not even feeling bad when he realized that it was a woman. The only thing that mattered right now was Sammy.

"Sam! Sammy you listen to me dammit! You're going to get help; you're going to get better! Sam open your eyes dammit!" Through all the bodies buzzing around his little brother he could see that Sam had closed his eyes again. When did his eyes get those red rings around them?

A man put something over Sam's mouth. Dean moved to get closer but suddenly felt a strange weightlessness come over him. He turned just in time to see a man holding a needle step back with wide eyes. Dean took a half-hearted swing at the man before falling forward. He was not awake when his head met the linoleum floor.

Sam.

I need to get to Sam.

Everything will be fine when I get to him.

Sammy.

Dean's eyes snapped open and he instantly began to struggle against the bolds that held him down firmly against a soft surface. What the hell? He needed to get to Sam; he didn't have time for this!

"Need to… get to brother." He panted, unable to form a coherent sentence and becoming madder than hell at his inability to do so.

A swirling face came into view; Dean strained his eyes to see who it was. "Sam?"

"Sam is your brother, right?" Dean tried to nod but his head just sort of rolled slightly to one side. Dammit he didn't have time for this; he needed to get to Sammy!

"Dean? Dean, are you still with me?" The face was becoming blurrier. "Dean, Sam is fine… he's… we gave him… awake… Dean?" Why couldn't Dean concentrate? The face was nothing but a swirl of flesh color in an ocean of white.

"…too much… Sam…" Sam?! Dean squirmed against his restraints at the sound of his brother's name. "Out… later." Why was it getting so dark?! He need… to… get to… Sam.

Sam.

It was the one thing Dean knew when he woke up, disoriented and tied down to a hospital bed.

"Hello?" He called, turning his head to one side to view the room. A nurse bustled forward.

"Dean? Your name is Dean, right?" God her voice was annoying.

"Sam. Where's Sam?" Dean croaked, ignoring her question.

"Sam's in the ICU." The nurse was measuring out some liquid into a syringe.

Dean turned his head back to the ceiling and struggled against his bonds. "He needs me. I have to get to him."

"Mhm." The nurse said unsympathetically. She rubbed something cold against Dean's skin. "Sam's not conscious right now but his breathing is stable and he's not on a respirator.

Dean relaxed slightly. Maybe Sam would be okay? No. No he wouldn't. Sam was dying. Dean turned his head to watch the nurse who was now flicking the syringe.

"Wait what is that?" Dean choked out in panic.

The nurse paused for a moment. "It's just something to relax you a little bit."

"No! No wait!" Dean shouted as the nurse moved towards him with the unknown drug. "You don't understand! I _need_ to get to Sam. He's… He's dying. I need to be there for him." He bit back tears that threatened to spill over. "He's my little brother. I need to be there for him." His voice was barely a whisper.

The nurse stopped and looked from Dean to the syringe with a sad expression on her face.

"I uh… I'll go get the doctor. See what we can do." With that, Dean was alone again. His thoughts were on Sam. Sam, probably lying alone in a bed, Sam, who needed his big brother there for him, not chained to a bed, unable to come to his side.

There were suddenly two pairs of footsteps approaching. Dean looked over, unable to stop the tears from spilling out when he tilted his head.

"Dean?" The nurse had come back with a young doctor, around Dean's age.

Dean just nodded. "I need to get to my little brother, doc. You've seen him. I need to be there."

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Dean you attacked a staff member and tried to attack another one. You understand why we can't just let you go, right?"

Tears were flowing openly now. "Doc. I need to get to Sam. We're all we've got. I can't let him do this alone. Not now. Not after everything." Why was he being so open? Why was he telling his wannabe excuse for a doctor all of this?

The doctor nodded to the nurse who hurried away. Dean straightened his head in defeat. Sam was going to die alone, and it was all his fault.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP. The sound of Velcro ripping open filled the room and Dean found that he could move his left leg once more. RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP. He could move his arm.

Dean had to suppress his urge to lash out when he found that his arm was free. Instead he rolled over and undid the Velcro that was holding down his right arm as the nurse released the strap around his right boot. At least he was still fully clothed.

His vision was still slightly foggy and he wobbled unsteadily when he stood up but otherwise Dean felt fine, well- relatively. He'd been worse.

"Where uh," Dean swallowed hard. "Where is Sam?"

The doctor looked at Dean critically. Dammit, this is taking up too much time. What if Sam woke up and Dean wasn't there for him?

"Sam's in the ICU. Dean… he's in pretty bad shape." The doctor said in a practiced, sympathetic voice that Dean knew he must use when telling people that their family members are going to die.

Dean blinked back the tears. "Can uh… Can I see him?"

Giving one last glance at Dean's ragged appearance the doctor nodded slowly and began to walk out of the examination room. Everything was too white. Too clean.

"Your brother… If I didn't know better I'd say that he had advanced-stage lung cancer." The doctor said explained as he led Dean down the too-clean corridors.

"Sam doesn't smoke." Dean answered flatly.

"We did a complete chest x-ray and we couldn't find a single thing, no masses in the lungs, no tumors, no black spots. It's like his organs are just… giving up. I've never seen anything like it." Dean glanced at a sign on the wall. "ICU à" He wished that the doctor would walk faster.

"Besides the contusion on his head and multiple cuts and the bite" the doctor emphasized the last word, "we couldn't find what would have been causing him so much pain either. We're thinking that it could be fibro-myalgia which is a hyper-feeling sensation of the nerves but-" Dean put his hand on the doctor's shoulder, stopping him.

"Doc… I know, okay? I know how bad he is and I know that there's nothing that you can do for him. I know." Dean hated the explanations, the excuses that the doctors told people when they had no clue. He knew what was wrong with Sam. He was dying.

The doctor just nodded and they continued their walk in silence.

Dean almost fainted when he saw Sam, lying there on the light-blue sheets, looking like he was just an inch from death.

He had seen his little brother like this before. When that bastard had stabbed the knife into his back. When he got shot full of lead by two pissed-off hunters. When he got ganked by that lame-ass excuse for an angel. When he was lying in the panic room, remembering all the shit that went down in hell. But nothing could prepare Dean for seeing it again.

The one person who he had sworn to protect, the only other human being on the face of the earth who he actually loved was lying on that bed. So still, so silent.

Dean swallowed hard and approached his little brother. He looked bad. He looked so fucking bad. When did he get that pale?

"Sam?" Dean called out softly. His voice broke.

The doctor put a sympathetic hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, he's… he's unresponsive. Everything that we've tried has failed to wake him up."

Dean just blinked and tried again. "Sammy?" Because dammit Sam answered him when he called. Maybe not at first, but he always did in the end.

He reached out his shaking fingers and ran them through his baby brother's long brown hair.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was barely more than a trembling whisper. He needed for Sam to open his eyes. He needed for Sam to talk to him.

But Sam just lay there, unmoving, silent.

"Dean. He can't hear you. I'm sorry." The doctor squeezed Dean's shoulder but he barely felt it. He just felt Sammy, his cold skin, his dirty hair. It was all so wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen, no to him, not to Sam.

"If…" Dean started but stopped himself as his words got stuck in his throat. "-_when _he wakes up, can I take him home? He'd… he'd like that more."

The doctor nodded but didn't look hopeful. "Dean it's unlikely that your brother will wake up. We've given him something for the pain; all that we can do now is wait."

Wait for him to die. Dean filled in the rest of the sentence. Dammit, no! Not here. If Sam was going to die, he was going to do it in his own damn bed at least.

"Dammit Sammy, you wake up _right now_!" Dean put on his "big brother" voice once more, trying to sound strong and forceful. "Sam! You hear me?"

The doctor was looking at Dean sadly. Stop looking at me like that. He's not dead yet you bastard.

"Samuel Winchester you open your eyes this instant and look at me because I won't have you die on me here. I'm going to take you home. But first you need to open those damn eyes ju…" Big brother voice was failing, giving way to the scared "I'm about to lose my brother" voice. "Just open your eyes."

And that was it. The wall holding back the tears fell down. Dean scrunched his eyes closed and took in a sobbing, ragged breath.

"D'n..?" Dean's eyes snapped open. Sam was looking at him with confusion.

"Sam! Good, good boy Sammy. Hey- listen, we're going to take you home, okay?" Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair soothingly.

"D'n… wha… happened?" Sam panted; his eyes filled with confusion. "Did… did I… do it?"

Dean sat down on the bed and stroked Sammy's hair. "Yeah little brother, you did it. It's all over. I'm going to take you home now." Dean lied.

Sam stared up at Dean. God his eyes looked so confused.

"Hey- Sam. Sammy. Wake up!" Sam had started to drift off again. Dean couldn't help but notice that Sam's breathing was getting weaker.

"D'n? We home?" Dean suddenly realized why Sam's eyes were like that. He couldn't see.

Dammit Sammy.

"Yeah." Dean lied through his sobs. "We're home Sam. You're in your room. I've got you." Dean put a reassuring hand on his brother's broad shoulder and kept up his gentle stroking of his hair.

"D'n…" Sam's sightless eyes started to tear up.

"No Sam, you don't do that. No crying. It's alright. Big brother's got you." The doctors, the other patients, the random onlookers- none of it mattered to Dean who was normally so concerned about keeping up his tough guy appearance.

"M'kay." Sam agreed, though tears were streaming down his face without signs of stopping. "D'n… I'm scared."

Dammit Sammy, dammit all!

"Hey, hey it's okay. It's okay." Dean rubbed circles on his younger brother's shoulder. "It's going to be fine. I'm right here. I won't leave you."

Sam noticeably relaxed under Dean's soothing touch and swallowed. "D'n… I love you."

Dammit Sammy, don't do this.

"I know little brother. I love you too. Big brother loves you too." Dean bent down and kissed the top of Sam's head with trembling lips.

And, just like that, Sam was gone. His sightless eyes stared up at Dean, already beginning to cloud over with death. Dean pulled Sam's head closer and wrapped his arms fully around his lifeless little brother.

"It's okay Sammy, big brother-" he choked through his tears. "Big brother's got you. I love you too Sammy."

Even though Sam couldn't hear Dean's quiet whispers he held his baby brother close for a long time, crying the tears that he had held back for so long. Since Sam died. Since Sam fell into the cage. Since Sam came back, so broken that it nearly killed him. Since the trials began and Dean had to sit and watch his brother slowly die. So many tears needed to be shed. And Dean was going to be damned if he couldn't cry now.


End file.
